(no subject)

[fairytalenoir]

[ A handmade cardboard sign goes on the podium: 3 CARD TAROT READING: FINAL CHANCE. The wobbly card table with a Tarot pack waiting goes in front. The Boy Detective himself, pasty white and raccoonishly hollow-eyed as ever, stands beside both table and podium. ]

What do you consider a rite of adulthood?

If you want a reading, an answer is my final price. But —

[ So generous a tone here. ]

— if you only want to answer, I won't force one on you. I mean, I'm practically dying and it might be the best reading of the rest of my life and you'd be wasting the special spiritual insight my hovering on the precipice between worlds grants me, but I won't make you.

Comments

[fairytalenoir]

[ He gathers the cards back together, the touch of his hands encouraging the design to shift once again. He keeps them moving, the shuffle now slow and simply something to do with his hands. ]

Able to see themselves in each other, and vice versa. [ He says by way of agreement. ] Oh, uh, not really, no. I usually don't have the money.

[peratic]

[ Her attention lingers on the shifting design of the cards. It does not unsettle her, precisely, but anything so ambiguous stirs up thoughts of family (not home, as she's never had such a thing). Now she looks more clearly at the boy. ]

But you're not asking for money when you read. Of course, money might be a little less valuable to the dying.

[fairytalenoir]

[ The way he looks back at her is a little wide-eyed, as if he forgot that part. It's not that, though, he's only prone to a certain ingenue slant of persona. ]

I used to, but yeah, not this time. Plus all those other times were practice, and it's not fair to charge a lot for that.

It worked out, though, I think I did good this time. I think I understand better.

[peratic]

Yeah? I'm glad. [ It worked for her, at least. ]

They're very unusual, those cards of yours. I hope you plan to hang onto them for as long as you can.

[fairytalenoir]

Flashy, right? But that's what I wanted for this time. They're — on loan, though.